


Revolution

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [24]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, M/M, Pain, both physical and emotional, injuries, once again lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: No revolution comes without its price.Judas is injured in a protest.





	Revolution

The protests were rough, they had become increasingly violent in the last weeks, or months, really, but never had there been pure brutality like this time.

Jesus had never seen hatred like that in anybody’s eyes, the guards, the Romans; their loathing had shone as brightly in their eyes as the rebellion in those of their opponents. But most importantly, Jesus had seen how much they enjoyed it, how much fun they had causing pain.

Jesus still heard the screams echoing in his mind, the agony in the voices of his friends and the triumph in the muffled sounds behind heavy helmets.

He did not want this; this violence was not what he was here for; he wanted peace, he wanted happiness for his people, but not at this price. There were limits to what he was willing to endure and what he would allow his friends to endure.

Mostly, they had survived the fights unscathed, smiles on their face, some bloodied, some sharp, white teeth shining like the hope they had still not lost. Some came off worse, cuts and bruises littered across their faces and upper bodies, clothes dusty and torn. The worst of them all, however, was Judas. They had carried him in after them, in an attempt to get him out of harm’s way as fast as possible. Now, everybody was exhausted, leaning against tables, walls, slouching on chairs and Judas was leaning against the leg of a table, seemingly still unconscious.

Jesus rushed over to him. Gently, he placed a hand against Judas’ cheek. He was breathing evenly, albeit in shallow puffs. It pained Jesus to see him like this, he was worried, dreaded the day somebody on either side would eventually go too far. Then Judas blinked, slowly opened his eyes, looked at Jesus and the latter immediately forgot his pain, his struggles and focussed on Judas, the screams in his mind ebbed down and all he saw was the colour of Judas’ eyes, all he heard was his voice, unsteady and weak, saying his name.

“Jesus.”

“I’m here, darling.” His own voice was just as weak, just as unsteady. He hated himself for it; he should be the strong one, the person others could lean on.

“I thought this was it,” Judas said and closed his eyes again. Jesus brought up his other hand to hold Judas’ face between them.

“No. I wouldn’t let them… do that. Are you okay? I need to get you off the floor. Judas,” his voice broke. “can you make it to that chair?”

Judas’ expression was pained when he opened his eyes again.

“If you help me,” he said. Jesus heard the smile in his voice, in the softness of his words and the care with which he spoke. But his face was still pulled into a grimace that showed the agony he was trying to hide from Jesus.

“Of course.”

He moved to crouch beside Judas and slung an arm around his shoulders. Simon came over to help them and together they made it to the nearest chair. Judas sat down heavily and immediately pressed the heel of his hand to his temple.

“Fuck,” he cursed. His breathing had sped up, breaths wracking through his body from the short distance alone,

Looking at him now, Jesus noticed the cut in Judas’ trousers, that he had not noticed before. The edges were red, thick dark blood glistening underneath.

“What happened to your leg?” Jesus asked. Judas noticeably forced his eyes open.

“Knife. Can’t be bad though, I barely feel it.”

“It looks bad,” Jesus shot back. It came out more sharp than he had planned. “Somebody bring over a first aid kit!” he called into the room. “How’s your head?” he continued to Judas.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Judas was lying. Jesus knew he was lying; he would not have shown his pain in the movement of his hand otherwise, he would not have shown vulnerability.

In a way they were scarily alike, Jesus supposed. They would both give their lives for their cause, they would both save the other before themselves, they would both lie about their own pain to minimise the other’s worries. They would both gladly suffer in order to spare the other. It was ironic how well Jesus understood him and how much he despised Judas’ actions at the very same time. But for now he needed to tend to Judas’ wounds as best as he could, or ask somebody else if Judas was indeed in much worse shape than he let on.

“Don’t lie. I saw you fall. And if you can’t even feel the cut in your leg, your head must be worse than I can imagine.”

“I’m fine, Jesus,” Judas snapped, but the wince he gave at the minute movement of his head, told Jesus everything he needed to know. He raised an eyebrow.

A light tap on his shoulder forced him to break his eye contact with Judas.

John handed him the first-aid kit he had asked for and an extra pair of scissors. Then he kneeled down onto the floor next to Jesus and waited while he cut off Judas’ trousers above the cut and pulled them over his foot, tossed the dirty fabric aside carelessly. The wound was worse than Jesus had dared to hope, but it could have been deeper, longer. Most of what made it seemed so bad was the blood that had spread around it. John was already opening packages of sterile wipes, tapping around the cut to clear up what Judas needed.

“Stitches,” he muttered under his breath and Jesus winced; it was not the first time any of them had needed stitches, and not even the first time Judas did, but it was never pretty. The scarcity of painkillers did not allow for any to be given out if not absolutely necessary. Jesus felt Judas’ fingers touching the back of his hand. He took Judas’ into his own, felt the painful squeeze, but it comforted him. As long as Judas could muster this much strength, he was okay. Jesus got up to stand beside Judas, never letting go off his hand. John got out what he needed. Simon had joined them again; he was going to assist John.

Jesus leaned down.

“You’re gonna be alright. I’m here.”

“I know,” Judas replied.

Simon handed Judas a rough strip of fabric to bite down on and Jesus was terrified in his stead, but Judas took it between his teeth without hesitation and nodded. At the first touch of the needle, he tensed up; bright red pearls of blood were forming in the cut and Jesus’ hand was aching from the tight grip Judas had on it. A choked off pant was all that Judas uttered through the rag in his mouth. His eyes met Jesus’; in response, he put his other hand on Judas’ shoulder, thumb rubbing over the skin at the hem of his shirt.

The second stitch went faster and by the time John was tying up the last one, tears were streaming down Judas’ cheeks, but he was bearing it silently.

As soon as the wound was cleaned and bandaged up, Jesus leaned in closer and wiped the tears away. Judas had spat out the rag, but still, Jesus could see that the muscles in his jaw were painfully clenched, teeth gritted together. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Judas’ forehead.

“You did so well,” he whispered. Judas’ eyes fluttered shut at that; he relaxed against the touch of Jesus’ face, two fingers that lingered against his cheek.

“But you should rest now. Lie down.”

Judas nodded hesitantly.

“If you stay,” he mumbled.

“Of course.”

When they collapsed onto the bed in Judas’ room only minutes later, Jesus’ only worry in that moment were the dirty clothes they were still wearing.

But for now he was at peace. Judas would heal and their cause would bear fruit eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm not at my best writing condition right now, but I managed to get this done now, so that's something! Blease Feed me Kudos and comments, babes.


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